


Deal With the Devil

by smokesprite



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam is a devil, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, because I don't like him, but he only shows up for two seconds, not surprisingly so is kavinsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9185954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokesprite/pseuds/smokesprite
Summary: Adam is a devil, and Ronan needs a favor. And then another favor. And suddenly Adam's not just the dude with the hellfire.





	

GREED 

Adam had made peace with his being a devil; he made deals and took souls and who knew where those souls went after he tucked them into the velvet pouch at his belt. But the idea that that was where this one was going...well, Adam had a sense for what mortals wouldn’t go softly into that gentle night, and Ronan Lynch was one of them.

He wondered what the boy could want. A look around the room revealed nothing more than a lack of interest in anything boys his age were usually interested in. Scratch that, Adam thought as he saw a BMW key. A lack of interest in _almost_ anything boys his age were usually interested in.

“Hey,” Adam knew that voice. It was the shy, timid, slightly sheepish voice of the last person who’d been sacrificed to Adam--Noah Czerny. There he stood, pale in the moonlight, exactly what one would’ve expected a ghost to be (had they never seen one before). Adam really should have put this spirit in the bag years ago, but he couldn’t help it. Noah was so innocent, and Whelk had been such a brat, and Adam didn’t like being used--

Adam shook the thought.

“Noah Czerny,” he censured any amount of surprise from his voice; he made it a habit to appear all knowing at all times.

Ronan Lynch was at Noah’s side, and Adam figured that was how Ronan had finally figured out how to summon him properly.

“I need you to bring someone back from the dead.”

Adam finally looked down at the days old corpse on the floor. Resting in the walls of an abandoned warehouse on the cusp of autumn, it hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention--flies, press, etcetera. It lay there, the stench of death clinging to the bones, possessing a flat pallor. Polo shirt. Nice watch. Leather shoes. Nothing ripped, or scuffed, it looked like he’d just lay down for a nap. However, Adam stepped closer and knew immediately he hadn’t gone peacefully.

Hornets.

Death by allergies. That was cruel.

“That’s who you want me to bring back.” Adam said. It wasn’t really a question--it was obvious--but he needed explicit terms.

“I want you to bring Richard Campbell Gansey III back from the dead,” Ronan repeated, slight impatience creeping into his voice. “Can you do it or not?”

“Depends on what you’re offering,” Adam immediately replied.

Ronan raised an eyebrow, as if that wasn’t obvious.

Adam studied the man--boy, really, his face was uncreased by age. His head was shaved, though the hair was coming back in tufts. His eyes were dark and so were the bags under them. Adam tried to see if they held any hope. He only made deals with the ones who  had nothing left, the ones whose sparks had long since gone out, the ones who needed Adam’s special brand of hellfire to keep going.

He found it, burning deceptively strong in Ronan’s heart.

“No,” Adam said.

Ronan’s face, already all angles, grew sharper. His lips crept up in a snarl, baring his teeth.

“Wait,” Noah Czerny said. “Wait, take me instead.”

Adam broke eye contact with Ronan to study Noah. “You’ve already been sacrificed.”

“But this time I sacrifice myself,” Noah said. And his eyes were large and empty--long dead with nothing to hide and nothing to hope for. “Take my freedom. Put me in your bag.”

Adam considered, but he already knew it was done. The deal was a good one, all loose ends tied. One soul in a bag, one soul in a body.

“Deal.”

 

GLUTTONY 

The ihop was open 24/7. Adam knew this because Adam didn’t sleep.

He hadn’t expected this to be how the night ended. The price and the prize sat across from each other eating jovially from the same plate of hashbrowns, the client chugged his fifth hot chocolate, and all while the devil himself poked awkwardly at a luscious pancake.

Strangely, Adam didn’t want to leave. It had only been tense until Gansey had gathered himself enough to introduce himself. After that, it had been all polite niceties, intellectual inquiries, and good natured ribbing.

Ronan thought Gansey had needed a hospital, but Gansey had insisted he needed food, and Noah Czerny agreed. “A last dinner. Or breakfast. A last meal,” he’d sunk all his awkward charm into the request.

“Three against one,” Ronan had backed up threateningly.

What kind of idiot threatened a devil?

Ronan downed his sixth hot chocolate.

“So, how’d Ronan do it?” Gansey asked. “I mean, it’s a miracle, it’s amazing, but how did he do it? Not just anyone can summon the devil.”

“Anyone can summon me.” Adam corrected.

“But it’s like I told Ronan,” Noah added more helpfully, “there are lots of devils. Adam is the one I knew for sure would come if we summoned him.”

“Took long enough to remember the _how_ ,” Ronan grunted, though not sourly.

“I could feel him watching,” Noah pouted.

“Ah,” Gansey lit up. “So you can hear people’s attempts but you can’t show up until they do it right?”

Adam weighed his words. “If someone isn’t desperate enough to try day-in and day-out to get the summoning right, they’re not ready to make a deal with me.”

“Well,” Gansey said putting a hand on Ronan’s shoulder, “if anyone’s tenacious enough to put in the time, it’s Ronan.”

Ronan plucked the sentimental note right out of the air, “He’s not a zombie, right? There’s not some trick that’s going to come back to bite us?”

Adam shrugged, “Nothing more than the…” Adam searched for the term they’d used. When Gansey had awoken, he’d been dead long enough that all his blood had pooled in his back. Getting it to recirculate had looked painful. “...extreme case of ‘pins and needles’. I don’t deal in tricks.”

“It’s why I insisted on you,” Noah nodded. “Honestly, I was worried a devil like _Kavinsky_ might show up.”

Adam’s mouth twisted, “Where’d you meet Kavinsky?”

“Kavinsky’s a devil?” Gansey perked up.

“Kavinsky enrolled in a high school,” Noah told Adam, “and unlike me, he can actually go to classes and meet people and--”

Adam groaned.

“What is it with immortals and high schools?” Ronan asked.

“I have no idea.” Adam said. He didn’t mention the pamphlets he couldn’t help but pick up any time he was summoned to a campus. Kavinsky likely enrolled for vastly different reasons.

“Do devils eat?” Gansey asked suddenly.

“Ghosts don’t eat,” Noah volunteered, poking his fork into his hash browns, “but we do love playing with food.”

Adam shrugged.

“Eat your damn pancake,” Ronan said.

 

ENVY 

“Do you know how many people a year die in car accidents?” Adam asked.

“Do you?” Ronan challenged. “I didn’t summon you so you could scold me, I summoned you because I need insurance.”

“What?” Adam asked alarmed. He hated bureaucracy. Devil powers did not do the paperwork for him. Besides, Ronan was filthy rich, why would he need to get his car insurance from Adam?

Ronan jerked his head.

Adam looked. There was a car rumbling next to their own, and judging by the aggressively revving engines, Ronan was about to race. It became clear after a moment of study that Ronan was not gesturing at the car, but rather the driver.

“Kavinsky’s a devil, right? That means Kavinsky’s been cheating.”

“Not necessarily,” Adam said unconvincingly.

“He has,” Ronan was sure of himself. “I just need you to even the playing field a bit.”

“And what are you offering?”

“The ride of a lifetime,” Ronan said.

“What are you offering?” Adam repeated.

“A week of servitude.” Ronan said.

“What are you offering?” Adam repeated.

“A goddamn pony,” Ronan snapped.

“Deal.”

“What?”

Kavinsky tore off, and Ronan had no choice but to follow.

Adam jerked back against the seat. The car hummed evenly below them.

“A pony? Seriously?” Ronan asked disbelievingly.

“You have horses,” Adam said.

Ronan shot a look out of the corner of his eye, “Yeah. Whatever. Watch this corner, this is where he does it.”

Adam watched, and sure enough he felt a tug of power. It was odd, because Adam had always been under the impression that a devil needed to make a deal with someone, to have assured a balance, before drawing on their power. But a moment later it came to him: Kavinsky was making a deal with himself.

That was dangerous. If he didn’t watch himself, that dirty habit would destroy him.

“This is a school night,” Adam said, “you have homework.”

“You have bigger things to worry about than my homework,” Ronan snarled.

Adam supposed it wasn’t his place, but it nagged at him. Gansey had half-summoned him the month before with the intent to bargain for Ronan’s diploma and Adam had honestly only turned up tonight because he thought Ronan was going to ask about the same thing.

Should have known better.

Adam thought about the horse he was going to get and unwrinkled reality around the two cars. Ronan drew even with Kavinsky, and then Kavinsky was looking right at Adam. Adam waved nervously and hoped Kavinsky wouldn’t visit him about this.

“You know,” Adam tentatively after they took the next curve at 90 mph, “mortals making devils angry never ends well.”

Ronan grinned, “Bring it.”

Adam studied him in the darkness. “You fancy yourself a demon?”

“As demon as a mortal can be,” Ronan was brimming with danger and confidence.

Adam settled into his seat and reminded himself that _he_ was the devil in this car.

 

PRIDE 

Ronan’s family farm was surprisingly charming. Green hills rolled, an emerald horizon, and cows dotted the landscape. Ronan led him by a pen of goats and a chicken house, and Adam was reminded of how long it had been since he’d stopped to pay attention to ordinary life.

“I’m not going to have to sacrifice it to you, am I?” Ronan asked distastefully.

“That won’t be necessary.” Adam was just tired of hypnotizing taxi cab drivers. Travel between dimensions wasn’t bad, and he could travel through the ether if he was being summoned, but any other excursion on the human plane required more mundane means of travel.

“I didn’t think you’d take me up on the horse,” Ronan said.

“I didn’t think you’d summon me for something so stupid,” Adam replied.

“Seriously, can’t I bargain to give you something less...alive?”

“You could try,” Adam admitted. “I’m unlikely to take you up on anything but the horse, though.”

“What’s going to happen to her?” Ronan asked.

“I’m going to ride it,” Adam said. “You’re shocked, I’m sure.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but Adam suspected he was rolling his eyes. “I mean...what’s going to happen to her soul?”

Ah.

“Nothing,” Adam sighed. “I’m really only going to ride it. Although, I should warn you, there will be a name change. Whenever devils come into horses, they are henceforth known as ‘Steeds of Fiery Damnation’.”

Ronan snorted. “Well, just remember that even Steeds of Fiery Damnation need to eat.”

He opened the door to the barn. Seven horses stood in their stalls, and Ronan lead him to the last one. A sandy mare huffed within the stall, and Ronan introduced her. “This is Peaches. Her eyes are bigger than her stomach, so don’t let her convince you to give her more than her daily diet allows.”

“I’ll probably keep her here,” Adam shrugged after a moment of thought.

Ronan looked surprised, and his shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh. Good.”

“I can take her at anytime; she’s my horse now.”

Ronan nodded, but what he said out loud was, “It was a stupid deal.”

It was.

 

WRATH 

Ronan was up waiting for them when Adam led Peaches into the stable.

It had turned out to be a less satisfactory deal than Adam had originally thought. It had taken an hour to get to the Dairy Queen, and by the time he got around to ordering a milkshake he was being summoned. He couldn’t just leave Peaches behind, and by the time he’d arrived at the house of the woman summoning him the husband was dead, the lover was half mast, and the woman no longer needed Adam.

“This was a stupid bargain,” Adam said to himself as he trudged down the muddy path to the Lynch barn, “No offense, Peaches.”

Ronan’s temper that night was the icing on the melted Dairy Queen milkshake.

“You’re not the first devil I’ve met, you know,” Ronan said confrontationally when Adam closed the barn door behind him.

“You go to school with Kavinsky,” Adam recalled the obvious and led Peaches to her stall. She went straight for her water.

“No, before that,” Ronan said. “My father summoned one of you. It’s how we got the farm.”

Adam reached out to the air around him, and he did feel a trickle of power. It was old enough that it had almost faded into the ordinary fabric of reality. Almost, but not quite. Adam nodded. “What of it?”

“It didn’t look like you,” Ronan said. “It didn’t look human.”

“Sometimes they don’t.”

It was the truth, but Adam could tell it wasn’t what Ronan had wanted.

“Do you look like that?” Ronan asked, and he was clearly remembering, imposing the image of the other devil over Adam.

“This is my face,” Adam said.

“It’s your human face, you mean,” Ronan didn’t believe him. “But what is your devil face? Your real face.”

Adam lifted an eyebrow. “This.”

Ronan squinted.

“Some devils like to play the part,” Adam shrugged and started to brush Peaches down. “This face has always been devil enough for me.”

Ronan went silent.

Adam finished. He put the brush where it belonged. He closed the stall door. He was halfway to the barn door when Ronan stopped him.

“Who are you?” Ronan asked.

“Adam,” Adam replied.

“Who _were_ you?” Ronan tried again.

“Adam.”

“What are you?”

Adam smiled wryly. “What are _you_?”

Ronan stared at him, hard. “Catholic,” he finally said.

Then, he pushed past Adam and left the barn.

 

LUST 

Ronan sat on his bed, casually, like his Catholic self hadn’t just summoned the devil for the third time in as many months.

Adam wondered if he’d learned his lesson; he hadn’t tried to make any deals after Peaches. Then, maybe Ronan sensed Adam was wary of their deals as well. What was he desperate for so soon?

“When’s the last time you got laid?” Ronan broke the silence.

_Oh._

“It’s been a while,” Adam said slowly.

“It’s important,” Ronan insisted.

“There was a psychic,” Adam hesitantly recalled, “back in the twenties.”

“The twenties?” Ronan’s eyes went wide.

“Yes,” Adam said. “1923.”

Ronan recovered. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why’d you sleep with the psychic?”

“Well…” Adam’s face scrunched up. “I...wanted...to…?”

“Okay, how about an answer that isn’t a question.”

Adam regained his footing. “What will you give me in exchange for honesty?”

“You’ve never charged for honesty before.”

“This is getting personal.”

“Pocket lint,” Ronan said. “Why’d you sleep with the psychic?”

“I don’t think pocket lint is worth this.”

“Two pockets worth of pocket lint,” Ronan insisted.

“How about honesty in exchange for honesty.” Adam suggested. “Why are you asking me this?”

Ronan contemplated a moment. He scowled. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re worth kissing.”

Adam blinked.

“Actually, I know it would be worth it. And I know I want to. I don’t know what will happen to my soul after.”

Adam blinked.

“I’m not going to be…I don’t know, divinely compromised, am I?”

Adam swallowed. “No more than you already are.”

Ronan stood and walked forward cautiously. Adam let him take his time, pondering whether or not he should stop Ronan before he made it over.

First and foremost, the age difference. But, then, he didn’t feel older than Ronan. He might act all knowing sometimes, but to be immortal was to be unchanging. Adam was no different now than he’d been when he’d become a devil--nineteen forever.

Second, did Adam even want to be kissed?

Yes.

Third…

Ronan was in front of him. They were mere inches apart.

“In the sixties,” Adam swallowed, “I kissed a man named Henry Cheng.”

“Did you like it?”

“He stole my pouch of souls.”

“I’m not after your pouch of souls.”

Ronan must have seen Adam’s desire to jump on that euphemism, because he didn’t even give Adam the chance.

 

SLOTH 

The first nineteen years of Adam’s life had moved too fast, they were a blur that Adam could hardly remember. The next ninety-six hadn’t felt like anything at all. The final sixty-three were slow, languid, a luxury Adam had never dreamed.

It was idiotic, to believe Ronan’s kisses had changed Adam, like some Prince breaking the Princess’s curse in a fairytale. To the end, Adam insisted it was the ihop pancakes that had really done it.

In truth, Adam didn’t know.

He’d woken up one day, his bag of souls missing from the nightstand and the sixth sense for power and mischief gone. He’d rolled over and gone back to sleep.

Sometimes, he dreamt of old deals. More often, he dreamt of trouble at the school. Usually the stapler was jammed, but sometimes there was an eternal flight of stairs he had to run down to get to the copier while twenty-three students sat unsupervised.

Peaches grew old and died.

Gansey grew old and died.

Ronan grew old and died.

Adam grew old, and when he died, he was ready to learn what was inside of the velvet bag.


End file.
